Page 193 of Story of My Life
“Give up. Accept defeat,” Emilie said stubbornly.
“We need to hide all the evidence of this mess,” Ace said, gesturing around the tent at the dehydrated, prone bodies. “The elderly don’t need to be reminded of their mortality. They need to see more life, not less.”
“Why don’t we put everyone in the lake?” Zoey suggested.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“What?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It’ll cool everyone down, and we’ll tell the seniors that it’s good for achy muscles or something. Tell them it’s tradition.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Emilie scoffed.
“You say that a lot,” Erleen pointed out.
“Senior citizens do love quirky traditions,” I said, ignoring the wet blanket and speaking from a purely fictional standpoint.
“Medically speaking, cooling everyone down is a good idea,” Ace agreed.
The Bishop brothers looked at each other and shrugged. Levi heaved a police chiefy sigh. “Fine. We’ll load up everyone willing in the truck and drive them down to the beach.”
“What do the rest of us do?” Emilie demanded. “Pretend to be a bigger town with better amenities?”
Darius snapped his fingers. “Yes! Let’s do that! We need to turn Story Lake into an elderly wonderland. One that they’ll tell all their friends and family about.”
“I’m not going to be party to this idiocy,” Emilie announced.
No one stopped her when she stormed out of the tent.
“Quick. What are old folks into? I’m willing to traffic in stereotypes for the sake of brevity,” I said.
Everyone turned to look at Erleen. “Well, I’m always cold even when it’s hot,” she said.
“Eating dinner early,” Zoey suggested.
“Driving too fucking slow,” Cam added. “Present company excluded. You drive like a bat out of hell powered by nitrous.”
Erleen winked saucily at him.
Ace stroked his chin. “I’m a few years shy of the retirement club, but I love gardening.”
“Bingo! Hobbies that involve sitting. Being included. Young people willing to spend time with them and not minding the ‘back in my day’ stories,” Gage said.
I clapped my hands as the vision took hold. I wasn’t sure if I was plotting out a scene for a book or a scheme to save the town. But it was the only plan we had. “Yes! Okay. Bishops, you haul the bodies—er, runners—into the lake. Encourage them to look lively when the bus stops here. Erleen, you go charm the Fish Hook and Angelo’s into creating new early bird specials. Have them write them up really big and post them outside so they can be seen from a bus.”
“You can count on me,” she promised before spryly taking off for the Fish Hook.
I pointed to our rehydrated mayor. “Darius, I need you to talk to your sister and the band and have them adjust their playlists for the over-seventy-five crowd.”
“On it,” he said, hopping out of his chair like he was regenerated. His knees buckled briefly before he stood straight again.
“I’ll go with him and keep him from passing out or puking on anyone,” Laura volunteered.
“Perfect. When you’re done with that, can you go get the bingo cards? We can set it up here in the cooling tent once all the heat exhaustion victims are out.”
Laura grinned slyly. “You know, Cam is anexcellentbingo caller.”
“Good to know,” I said. “Okay, people. Someone get me Garland—the person, not the tinsel—some poster board and markers, and as many walkie-talkies, teenagers, and pots of flowers as you can find. We’re going to save this town if it kills us.”
